Primary
by IV Red
Summary: Naminé just doesn't want Roxas to leave. And in the end, it's Axel who keeps him there.//But white is so fragile. Tan colours seem prettier lately, yellow and orange and red.//AkuRoku, from Naminé's point of view. One-sided NamiRoku.


_Just a little something to take a break from my XigDem project, this one is, as the summary says, an AkuRoku story as seen from Naminé's eyes. Takes place shortly before Roxas leaves the organization, but contains mostly the reminiscing of times before that._

_Because Naminé is neither a bitch nor a yaoi fan. Because she thinks of people as colours and she just doesn't want to be alone._

_EDIT: Forgot to mention: This story refers back to another one of mine, in which Naminé plays the main role as well. That story is titled Once Upon An Artist's View, and although these are two completely independant pieces, I'd recommend reading that one._

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**Primary**

_One-shot Unique Chapter_

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She has always believed in things beyond her reach. Things like art, like beauty, so untouchable but existent - out there, away from Marluxia and the white walls. She's always liked that colour, but even her little white dress saddened her sometimes. Too white. It made her feel fragile. Tan colours seem prettier lately, warm and sandy and sunset-orange.

She liked orange the best. A dark yellow with a tinge of orange: Roxas. White castle walls, white pages, white little dress, herself. She doesn't like that colour anymore. But orange is nice, and white doesn't look so pale next to it – it seems bright, like a billion little stars all close together, though not quite as bright as the billion little sparks in Axel's hand that one time. Still, she keeps thinking back on orange. When she does, her hand doesn't seem so fragile as it holds the pencil and brushes it along the weak-white surface of the empty page.

She believed in life beyond the castle walls when it was simply too white to bear. She always imagined it orange and yellow and just there like breathing, like she believes in life now: life beyond the first chance, beauty without emotion, a bond that she cannot explain, her and Roxas.

She formed that bond with Sora once, fake and painted an ugly white. She painted herself in the islands, she painted a meteor shower in the sky and she made him promise, she made him promise that he'd always protect her. She made him promise, just like the Riku replica.

She is so sorry.

The replica is long gone and so are the promises, but Sora didn't leave and Roxas is here now. She likes the idea of that promise - a knight in shiny silver armour and on a white horse. It would be a pretty white, though, because the knight would be the orange and yellow and it would be Roxas. She wouldn't make him promise her a thing as long as he was there. She thinks she likes him better than Sora, who is a few tones of orange below and some blue splashed around the edges. It's kind of a pretty colour, too. She just doesn't want Roxas to leave – white is so ugly without the lively orange.

She won't wipe it away this time.

The creamy orange pencil traces abstract lines over the paper. They spread, but the white stays. It has really started to look nice; maybe yellow and orange need a little bit of white to look their best.

Her hand reaches for a new pencil and she has to stop herself and look first.

No, that shade of orange will not do: it's almost red. It's too dark and it will stand out and outshine the white. She likes that colour. Nice and bright, sparks in Axel's hand, dancing fire and it makes her smile, but it makes even the most numerous and bright-white stars look fragile again. She remembers the sparks, pretty and fleeting and suddenly exploding into flames that danced in Axel's gloved palm. She had smiled broadly because she didn't know Axel yet. Now she does, and his colour is nice, but…

It's a little bit melancholic, the way that dark orange and red mix with the sunset colours so well. It's art, it's life, it's something she believes in. It's like the bond her Other shares with Roxas' Other and she wants to think that it's the same bond as herself and Roxas, but perhaps she is too delicately white for such intense colours. Sparks and bonds and life.

"_I think…I think you don't need a heart to make a bond."_

Roxas looked at her incredulously, but she is sure now that he agreed.

"_Because you and Axel are best friends. Right?"_

He smiled. Roxas smiled and it was colourful: it was nice and warm and it made her think of sunsets, so she decided she would draw one.

Of course Roxas and Axel are best friends. Naminé is their friend, too, and they wouldn't leave her alone. She never made them promise anything. She never had to paint something so ugly again and she wouldn't be alone.

"_Why did the Keyblade choose me? I don't have a strong heart… I don't have a heart."_

Roxas needs his answers. Axel needs Roxas. So does she.

It is now, however, that she must accept her cursed fragility and wait. Axel will keep Roxas here, with them – no, with _him_. She knows now.

Axel kept Roxas there the first time he tried to leave; it was an amazing display of life, movement and emotion, sparks and red and soft sky-blue and the brightest yellow, all of which she could see for only a mere second. It was intimate and intense, something she had never witnessed before: two bodies in perfect unison, desperate harmony. She knew instantly that it was something she was not meant to see.

It made tears rush to her eyes, nonetheless – whether because of the utter beauty of the act, or the painful frustration of never being able to capture it into a mix of colours accurately enough, or sympathy towards Axel, his eyes teary as his hands cupped Roxas' cheeks and their lips met… she wasn't sure.

An overpowering tightness in her chest took over her after hours of trying to capture the emotions of what she'd witnessed unto paper, and she sobbed silently.

It was far beyond her grasp.

"_Why so blue?"_

She smiled; it was a funny question. She still thinks it is.

Blue and tears have nothing to do with each other; blue is contentment, restless peace, music, a different art from hers. Demyx is blue and teal and a few brushes of soft green, a colour that makes her smile as well. She remembers the last times she spoke to him with fondness, his excited speech and charming narrations, his colourful description of Xigbar. She tried to capture his image from what he told her; Demyx seemed delighted with the result. It wasn't complete, however, until she saw them together. Only then could she add Demyx into the picture with the right colours. He was flustered but grateful, especially flustered when he finally gave the drawing to his friend. Naminé knows that Xigbar kept it.

And so, it was funny that Axel asked her that. She knows she must've seemed desolate, and blue is definitely not the colour for that. Perhaps white is a more feasible option.

She brushed it off with a quiet giggle, wiping her eyes. Axel's eyes seemed ablaze; a billion minuscule sparks bursting into life.

Green. Perhaps that is the colour she had failed to consider.

She lets go of the soft orange pencil and heaves a sigh, reaching for the darker orange and red ones. Sunset, yellow, orange, red, warm vestiges of daylight in a seemingly burning sky, tinges of green at the edges, mixing with pink shades – this is almost perfectly accurate, she decides, feeling her eyes become watery, her vision hazy. She has allowed white to remain part of the picture.

Naminé contemplates the finished piece with tear-streamed cheeks: art – beauty – life.

Axel will keeps Roxas here. She knows this. Axel will keep Roxas with him, and she…

She has always believed in her bond with Roxas, always believed that they would forever share something special, always assumed that he would remain by her side. Roxas wouldn't leave her alone.

But it is Axel who is hit the hardest by Roxas' decision, and it is Axel who convinces him to stay at least another night, and then another, and four more. It is Axel who shares the inextricable bond with the sunset-orange knight. Axel needs Roxas, and Roxas needs Axel.

She realizes now, however, that she only weeps out of happiness, the unstable perfection of the bond she has witnessed. Tear-white happiness; she decides that it's not such a bad colour, after all.

She'll never be alone again.


End file.
